


Atonement

by theroadgoeson



Series: As the Days Turn Into Nights I Love You More and More [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Spooning, he's so sad, i just watched hunteri heroici, my baby, my poor baby cas, why so sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:24:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroadgoeson/pseuds/theroadgoeson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My 30 Day OTP challenge for Destiel. Most of these are gen, but the work earns the rating for chapter 13 (making out). I also plan on making most, if not all, of them drabbles, so fairly short. Also, this is far more difficult than I anticipated, so I'm insanely behind due to circumstances, forgive me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Atonement

**Author's Note:**

> less about spooning and more about Cas being depressed. I don't know, but I just rewatched Hunteri Heroici, and my poor baby Cas, he's so sad. I just want to give him a hug, goddammit. Also, I did actually quote my theology teacher. He may be a bigot who tries to shove his worldview down the throats of every student who walks into his classroom, but some of the shit that comes out of his mouth is some of the wisest shit I've ever heard. (Also, I just watched The Hobbit. Holy fuckin' Christ it was good. And Filli and Killi were surprisingly hot.)

Sometimes Cas would think about Heaven. Since the apocalypse didn't happen it had been in complete chaos. He feared it. He felt he had paid much of his dues in Purgatory, but it still hurt him—knowing what he had done. Becoming God had been his biggest mistake, a mistake he could never forget or forgive himself for.

He sat up sometimes in the middle of the night. Dean would still be asleep and Cas would roll over and drag himself out of bed. He would walk over to the small desk silently and reach into Dean's jacket to pull out his flask. He would sit down and take a pull from the container. He would never be able to get drunk from what was in the flask, but it was enough to give him a warm feeling in his stomach. The buzz felt like a poor imitation of happiness, but it was what he needed. Or thought he needed. He laid his head down on his arms and let his body shake with suppressed sobs. Angels couldn't cry, but it didn't mean they couldn't sob.

He rubbed his eyes vigorously, wiping away imaginary tears he wished he could cry. As he brought his hands down to lie on the table, his mind was brought back to the thoughts of his friends, and his body was racked with sobs again. He thought of Raphael's followers, those he had killed when he absorbed the souls in purgatory. Al those angels who didn't deserve the deaths they received. He gripped the edge of the table so hard his nails created small indents in the wood.

Cas shut his eyes, wishing that he could cry. Maybe it would help. He wished he could return, wished he could make amends for what he had done, but he knew that was impossible. He had caused too much trouble. Stopping the apocalypse had brought free will, which in turn had only brought chaos. He had endeavored to control that chaos, which only made it worse. Angels were never meant to have free will, Castiel had learned, but it was too late. So he paid his dues in purgatory and returned to earth, but still he felt that ache of regret burning in him so deeply he felt nothing could take it away.

"Cas?" Dean asked from the bed, sitting up to find an empty space next to him. Cas looked up from Dean, his hand still clutching the table and his eyes red from rubbing. Even in the darkness lit only be the curtain-filtered moonlight, Dean could see his distress. "Cas, what's wrong?" Cas only shook his head in reply. "Come here," Dean said, patting the space next to him.

CAs got up and walked to the bed, running mostly on autopilot. He laid down next to Dean, whose arms wrapped around him in a loving embrace. Cas turned into Dean, curling his head into the crook of the junction of neck and shoulder. Almost without realizing it, he started sobbing again. Dean brushed his fingers through the angel's hair, his forehead crinkling in sympathetic pain. "What's wrong?" Dean asked, pulling Cas's face to look him in the eye. "What's wrong, hey?" he said, brushing Cas's hair out of his eyes.

Cas looked down at his hands, clutching onto Dean's shirt. He clenched his jaw and laid back down, his head resting on Dean's chest. Dean rubbed his hands up and down Cas's arms, recognizing the angel's need to remain quiet fro a moment. Cas's hands tightened around Dean's waist as he swallowed, preparing himself. "Remember when I told you I couldn't bear to go back to Heaven?" Cas asked. Dean nodded against Cas's head in reply. "I never told you the extent of what happened up there, Dean. It's horrible. The angels… my family, Dean… they… they don't know what to do. All because of me. It's chaos, complete chaos. There's fighting, there's war." Cas lifted his head to look back at Dean, blue eyes piercing into green. "My brothers and sisters are killing each other. Because of me," he said, collapsing into sobs.

"Shh, shh," Dean said, combing his fingers through Cas's hair. "It's okay."

"No its not!" Cas half yelled. "Do you know what happens to angels when they die, Dean? We don't get a Heaven or a Hell. We get oblivion. There's no hope for a better place for us. We die and then we're nothing. I turned half of my family into nothing."

Dean looked at Cas and could see the pain written clearly in his face. "Okay, so maybe it's not okay," he said. "But if there's one thing I learned, Cas, it's that we all make mistakes. All of us. God only knows how many I've made. Some mistakes are bigger than others. You've seen that. But the whole point of being human, the whole point of free will, is to try to fix those mistakes. Sometimes we will never be able to, and maybe it's suicide to even try, but that's what free will is. It's trying and trying and trying and failing half the time. It's digging yourself into a pit of misery only to dig yourself out again. Trial and error, Cas. Trial/error, trail/error, trial/error, and finally, trail/fixed. Maybe you made a mistake giving angels free will, Cas, but now you have the chance to fix it. God keeps bringing you back, right? It's to fix it, Cas, I know it. You have free will, and now you have the free will to fix it. You'll never be able to take away the will of angels again, but his mess—this chaos in Heaven—you can fix that. I know you said that you might kill yourself if you ever went back, but you're killing yourself now by staying. Cas, you need to try."

"Dean, I… I don't even know where I would begin," Cas said forlornly.

"Forgiving yourself, maybe," Dean said.

"How can I?"

Dean looked down for a moment, considering his answer. He thinned his lips into a line, sighed, and looked back up at Cas. "A teacher of mine told me once that 'forgiveness is giving up hope of ever having a better past. Setting the prisoner free and knowing that the prisoner is you.' It's cheesy and lame as fuck, cas, but it's true. Your past ain't getting any better and now you're just a prisoner to your own self-pity. You have to stop. It's going to be hard. God knows I know it's going to be hard, but I can help."

Cas kissed him then. It was passionate, but soft. Dean could feel the twangs of self-loathing slowly melting away in the kiss. Cas broke off and slid his head down to rest again on Dean's chest, wrapping his arms loosely around Dean's waist. Dean placed an arm over Cas's shoulders and rubbed his back soothingly. He kissed his hair and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Cas. But I'm going to help you make this better. I'm going to make this better."

Cas closed his yes. He knew he could never fully atone for his sins, they were too plenty and too serious, but he could feel the hole closing up inside. He felt the hope for fixing slowly filing him again with ever pass of Dean's hand over his shoulder blades.


End file.
